


Cabin Fever

by the19otherpilots



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 03:47:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4124538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the19otherpilots/pseuds/the19otherpilots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete and Patrick both volunteer to be counselors for the fifth grade camping trip and are assigned to the same cabin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I don't completely understand the specifications for the ratings system on here (I'm sure there's probably guidelines somewhere that I haven't found yet) so as this story goes on, please comment and let me know if there are warnings I need to add or a specific rating I should classify it as.

My first instinct upon reading the heading of the papers on my desk was to laugh. "North Rise Elementary Fifth Grade Camping Adventure: Counselor Information." Absolutely. Because I just love children and the outdoors so much.  
  
A look around revealed my classmates regarding their own packet of forms with similar sentiments. I could hear the sarcastic chatter begin to swell in volume until the small, un-air conditioned room was overwhelmed with it. It was unseasonably warm for April, and irritability was clearly contagious in the syrupy humidity.  
  
Mr. Rhodes stepped up behind the front lab bench and waved his hand in the air vigorously for quiet. "As you've all noticed," he addressed us in his marble-mouthed falsetto, thick mustache bristling. "On your desks are the forms for those of you who will chose to attend North Rise's fifth grade camping trip."  
  
The chatter threatened to reclaim our attention and he again flapped his arm around indignantly. "Now before you all scoff and shove these to the bottoms of your backpacks like all the other countless trees you've wasted this year, hear me out. AP exams are rapidly approaching, as I'm sure you're aware. This class however, unlike many of the other advanced placement courses, does not simply _end_  because exams are over. We do have a final exam in June as well." There was a collective groan. "This trip is definitely a sacrifice for those of you who decide to go, but student counselors are vital. For your time and selflessness, the ten of you-five boys and five girls-that volunteer will receive fifty extra credit points averaged into your fourth quarter final grade."  
  
I considered this for a moment as I bit my nail. Five days out of school. That certainly wouldn't be too bad. It was no secret to anyone that I had neglected this class a little too much. Fifty points. There was no need for further deliberation. The all-too-distinct memory of the pit of nervousness and guilt in my stomach and the disappointed looks on my parents' faces after the arrival of my last report card was all the convincing I needed.


	2. Monday

We left school approximately ten minutes into first period, bags piled in the back and bus engine whistling loud enough for concern. It was a full-sized school bus for only the ten of us and still Kammie Bradley and Jason Samuels just _had_  to plop their horny asses in the three-seater directly in front of mine. We were on the road all of five minutes before the distinct sound of their dry-humping prompted me to insert my second earbud.  
  
As the drive dragged on, I found myself growing increasingly agitated. I didn't know anything about children. I still _was_  a children! Nothing about being an only child and the youngest cousin could have possibly prepared me for teaching ten year-olds about nature. Were fifth graders even ten year-olds? I checked the notes on my phone from the informational session that had been held after school the week before. It didn't _seem_  difficult. All I'd really have to do is stick to the curriculum they gave me and make sure the kids in my cabin showered and went to bed on time. No big deal. I closed the app.

* * *

I had the notes completely committed to memory by the time the bus ground to a halt in front of the mess hall at Camp South Bend. It was only then that I felt I was fully prepared. I could relax.  
  
Of course then just about the only thing I was _not_  prepared for presented itself immediately upon my crossing the threshold of Cabin A's counselor's bunk room. There was already someone sitting on the bed closer to the door, earbuds in and straightened black bangs covering his eyes. His duffel bag was kicked underneath the bed, unzipped and vomiting clothing. I shuddered internally imagining what kind of insects would climb inside.  
  
I knocked a knuckle on the worn bed post to get his attention. He popped out an earbud and looked up at me. "You're Patrick?" he asked, no emotion evident in his tone.  
  
"Yeah," I replied stiffly. There was no mention of a cabin partner in the meeting. "This is supposed to be my cabin."  
  
"I know," he said, smiling in a way that managed to worry me. "What's up, roomie?"  
  
With a sigh and an uncomfortable nod, I dropped my things on the other bed and headed for the tiny, presumably filthy bathroom. Fantastic. Of all the curveballs that could have possibly been thrown, I would be stuck babysitting in the wilderness with a guy who straightens his hair and—as a glance at the toiletries already strewn across the cracked sink revealed—wears eyeliner on camping trips.  
  
"I'm Pete by the way," he called from the room. "How polite of you to ask."  
  
I looked at my watch, still two hours before the kids were supposed arrive. One hour before the staff briefing in the picnic pavilion.  
  
"You a senior?" Pete tried again.  
  
"Sophomore," I relented, feeling bad for snubbing him. I hadn't meant to. He didn't seem so bad really. Stupid as it sounds, even to me, I was kind of afraid of him. Or at least intimidated.  
  
I walked back out of the bathroom to make my bed and he was still in the same position, except both earbuds were out and his phone was cast aside. I looked probably longer than I should have, taking him in. His disinterested expression and his idea of camping clothes: clearly female skinny jeans, a baggy gray hoodie, and a black faded band t-shirt.  
  
"They let sophomores do this trip at your school?" Still so casual.  
  
"Yeah," I said, trying to mimic his relaxed tone and failing. Small talk wasn't ever something that I would be considered good at. Nor any kind of talk really. I was remarkably out of practice.  
  
The rest of the hour progressed mostly in quiet. At one point, my stomach gurgled loudly. I was honestly surprised that Pete didn't look up from his phone at the sound. To soothe the hunger pains that came with it, I pulled a bag of lime tortilla chips out of my bag and pulled it open. That sound _did_  get his attention.  
  
"Sweet," he said, coming over to my bed and shoving his hand in the bag without asking. His fist overflowed with breaking chips when he withdrew it. Instead of going back to his bunk, he sat down next to me, clearly intending to take more. "These are great." His full mouth crunched when he spoke.  
  
He managed three heaping handfuls before his fourth basically exploded all over his lap and my bed. My first thought was ants. "Dude. Didn't you bring your own food?"  
  
"Uh huh," he grunted, scooping chunks of chip off the bed and into his mouth. "And I'll eat that too. Later."  
  
"Can that mess be made on _your_  bed?" I pressed, half-joking.  
  
"Sure," he shrugged and grabbed the bag from next to me, strolling lazily across the creaking floorboards with it.  
  
I got up to get it back when the timer I had set on my watch beeped. Ten minutes until the meeting. "We should probably get going," I told him, snatching the blue and green plastic out of his greasy hands and cramming it back into my suitcase.  
  
"Kay," he managed through his last mouthful as he pulled his hoodie off to reveal two muscular arms and a sleeve of tattoos that I was  _certain_ a parent hadn't signed consent for.  
  
The picnic pavilion turned out to not be very far away. The only other person there when we arrived was a very spry-looking old man in a t-shirt with a map of the camp on it. He held an overfilled clipboard.  
  
"What cabin are you two?" his voice was gruff and his stringy white goatee quivered with his breath.  
  
"A," Pete answered, accepting the Manila envelope thrust in his direction.  
  
"There's your cabin roster, course assignment and curriculum, and your schedule for the week."  
  
"Thank you," I said when Pete didn't.  
  
We sat at one of the splintering wooden tables and examined the contents of our envelope. We were assigned the map reading class. It was inside, one group a day. Awesome.  
  
Pete had picked up the cabin roster. "Lancaster..." he grumbled. "I wonder if that's Mike's brother."  
  
I shrugged. I didn't know who the hell he was talking about anyway.  
  
"Hope not. Mike's an asshole. His brother's probably a little shit."  
  
I snorted a laugh as I picked up the schedule.

* * *

The meeting was nothing we didn't already know, and the buses arrived right on time an hour later. The previously quiet camp was crowded with noisy fifth graders who had clearly been confined to the bus slightly too long.  
  
Pete and I entered the larger room of our cabin to find twelve boys already unpacking and arguing for beds. They all shut up and turned to stare when the screen door slammed shut behind us.  
  
"Uh..." I offered helpfully.  
  
Pete cleared his throat. "Ok, guys. I'm Pete. This is Patrick. We're going to try and stay out of your hair this week. Just, shower every night, get ready on time, and go to bed at lights out. Everyone in a top bunk is my group. Anyone in a bottom is Patrick's."  
  
"I'm pinning a copy of the schedule on the wall here," I announced, trying—probably unsuccessfully—to hide how impressed I was by the ease with which he took control. "We'll be coming in to check that you're awake and in bed on time every day. Any questions?"  
  
They all looked around and shook their heads.  
  
"Cool," Pete said grabbing my arm to pull me back onto the porch. "Lunch is in an hour."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is my first story on this site and the first fanfic I've written in years. I hope I haven't lost my touch. I have had accounts on other websites before and know how empty the promise of regular updates is. Let me know if you liked this, I guess, and I'll keep going.


End file.
